Qin Xiulan held Yu’er’s hand and, feeling how icy and thin it was, frowned slightly. She turned to Zhou Dazhuang and said, “Dazhuang, bring over more pork ribs next time to stew soup for your sister-in-law to nourish her. She’s far too thin.”
Zhou Dazhuang nodded immediately, “Right! Absolutely! I’ll bring plenty, plenty!”
Watching this scene from the side, Zhang Guilan suddenly remembered something, slapped her thigh, and exclaimed, “Oh, Eldest, you and your wife living up on the mountain is much too lonely. Why don’t you move back down here? The west wing is empty; Mother will clear it out for you.”
Qin Zhan shook his head. “It’s more convenient for hunting up on the mountain.”
“Hunting, hunting, all you ever think about is hunting!” Zhang Guilan looked ready to start chewing him out again.
Qin Xiulan smiled and stopped her. “Mother, big brother has his own plans. Just leave him be. But big brother,” she turned to Qin Zhan, her tone growing more serious, “sister-in-law looks delicate, and it’s cold on the mountain. Make sure you prepare plenty of firewood so she doesn’t freeze. Are the duvets enough? I still have two brand-new cotton quilts over at my place; I’ll have Dazhuang bring them over later.”
Zhou Dazhuang nodded again immediately. “Deliver them! I’ll deliver them right away!”
Qin Zhan glanced at his older sister and nodded. “Mmhmm. Thank you, Sister, Brother-in-law.”
Lunch was set across two tables.
Zhang Guilan’s cooking was second to none—cured pork stir-fried with garlic shoots, dried vegetables stewed with tofu, and braised pork belly. The aroma floated far enough for half the village to smell it.
Qin Xiaoman ate until his mouth was gleaming with oil. While eating, he would steal glances at Yu’er: he’d look for a moment, grin, take another bite, and grin again.
Qin’s father sat on the kang, and Zhang Guilan had dished out a separate bowl of meat broth for him, skimming off the floating grease and letting it cool until it wasn’t too hot before handing it over. Qin’s father took it, took a sip, smiled, and said nothing.
Yu’er was seated right next to Qin Zhan, with dishes piled high in front of her. Zhang Guilan and Qin Xiulan took turns adding food to her bowl until the mound of dishes at the top was tipping over, and she couldn’t possibly keep up with eating it all.
She had never eaten such a sumptuous meal in her life.
No—she had never even been allowed to eat at a dining table before.
Back at the Liu house, she and her younger brother always had to wait until everyone else had finished eating before they could go to the corner of the kitchen and scavenge the leftover, cold scraping at the bottom of the pot. Sometimes there wasn’t even leftover rice, and they just had to go hungry.
Yet now, everyone was telling her to eat first, picking out the best cuts of meat for her, and asking her if it tasted good and if she had enough.
As she chewed a piece of wild boar meat, tears suddenly welled up and spilled over, large droplets falling heavily into her bowl.
The whole table froze in place.
Zhang Guilan dropped her chopsticks, her face sinking as she turned to glare at Qin Zhan. “Did you bully her?”
Before Qin Zhan could open his mouth to speak, Yu’er shook her head frantically, scrubbing at her tears with the back of her hand. Her voice was small and raspy: “N-no… it’s good… it’s too good… I’ve never eaten anything this delicious in my life…”
As she spoke, she cried even harder, her shoulders hitching with sobs, yet she stubbornly continued chewing the meat in her mouth, her cheeks puffed out like a little hamster desperately stuffing food into its cheeks.
Zhang Guilan’s eyes instantly reddened.
She stood up abruptly, turned around, and pretending to fetch something from the stove, fiercely wiped at her eyes with her sleeve.
Qin Xiulan’s eyes grew red as well, and she turned her face away. Zhou Dazhuang stood helplessly nearby, clueless about how to offer comfort.
Qin Xiaoman didn’t understand what was wrong with the adults, but seeing that his sister-in-law was crying, he ran over, fetched his most treasured hand-drum rattle, shoved it into Yu’er’s hands, and said earnestly, “Sister-in-law, don’t cry. Here, you can play with this.”
Qin Zhan sat beside Yu’er in silence for a long time.
Then he reached out and gently patted her back.
The gesture was stiff, and the force was a bit off, but that large, calloused hand resting against her thin spine possessed a reassuring weight.
“From now on,” he said in a low, rumbling voice, “I’ll cook meat for you every day.”
Yu’er raised her head, looking at him through tear-blurred eyes.
She didn’t quite understand what “from now on” meant, nor did she grasp the full weight of those words.
Yet for the very first time, she felt that this tall, fierce, terrifying man seemed—
Seemed not quite so terrifying after all.
After lunch, Qin Zhan took Yu’er to rest in the west wing.
Zhang Guilan had cleaned the west wing until it was spotless, the kang was heated to a cozy warmth, and she had deliberately dug out a brand-new red silk quilt cover from the trunk to lay across the bedding, saying, “A new bride is coming, it has to be festive.”
Yu’er sat on the edge of the kang, still clutching the hand-drum rattle Qin Xiaoman had given her. With a gentle spin, it made a thud-thud sound, and her eyes would light up in time with it.
Qin Zhan leaned against the doorframe, watching her.
“Tomorrow, I’ll take you back to see your younger brother,” he said.
Yu’er lifted her head abruptly, her eyes suddenly lighting up as if a lamp had been switched on.
“R-really?”
“Mmhmm,” Qin Zhan said. “I bought some things to bring along for him.”
Yu’er opened her mouth, wanting to say thank you, but didn’t know how to phrase it. She simply nodded with all her might, her eye sockets turning red once more, though the corners of her mouth curved upward this time.
Watching her smiling face, the corners of Qin Zhan’s mouth twitched in an imperceptible motion.
He turned around and looked out at the hazy, gray sky beyond the courtyard.
That child of the Liu family, he thought.
A ten-year-old boy, as skinny as a bundle of firewood, his forehead battered and covered in blood, yet he stubbornly forced himself to entrust his only sister to a total stranger.
That kind of grit and disposition wasn’t something ordinary people possessed.
He ought to look after that child a bit more.
Qin Zhan withdrew his gaze, glanced back inside at Yu’er, who had already begun to nod off in sleep, and quietly pulled the door shut behind him.
Out in the courtyard, Zhang Guilan was scolding Qin Xiaoman for causing a ruckus nearby. Qin Xiulan and Zhou Dazhuang were getting ready to leave, Zhou Dazhuang calling out over his shoulder as he walked, “Mother, I’ll bring the cotton quilts over tomorrow without fail!”
Qin Zhan stood under the eaves, watching all of this.
The weather was very cold and the wind was strong, but his chest was warm.
He lowered his head to look at his own hand—that hand which had held Yu’er. The palm seemed to still retain the cool touch of her fingertips.
“From now on,” he told himself in his heart, “I won’t let her cry again.”